‘Window shopping?’ Mitch said. ‘My missus does it all the time.’
‘Only ’cos you’re too tight to give her any spends,’ Pete teased.
‘Ask the taxi driver,’ Gill said.
‘I did,’ Rachel said. ‘He can’t remember.’
‘What about cards? Bank statements?’ Gill asked.
‘Debit card only, overdrawn. No activity yesterday,’ Andy said.
‘She could have used cash to buy stuff.’
‘Or nicked it,’ Rachel said. ‘Her mother said she’d shoplifted stuff before.’
Janet chipped in: ‘If Lisa was shoplifting, then maybe Sean took the “shopping”.’
‘And her phone,’ said Lee.
And her life?
‘For starters,’ Gill replied, a tickle at the back of her neck, the case growing wings, the scent of a quarry, the excitement of identifying a potential suspect – caution, though; softly, softly, catchee monkey – ‘I think we should get to know Sean a whole lot better.’
So, the girl done good, Gill thought. But she needs taming, follow the rules, cover the mundane stuff. No room on the team for a lone flyer. No prima donnas wanting to dance their own steps.
‘The cab picked her up on Shudehill?’ Gill tapped her forefinger on the papers. ‘Had she got any shopping then or not? Where had she come from? Rachel, Kevin – CCTV. Trace her backwards.’ She saw the clench of annoyance on Rachel’s face. ‘Crack on, then,’ Gill said to them all. ‘Keep it up.’
‘Nice call,’ Janet said to Rachel, chancing to be in the Ladies at the same time. Janet brushing her hair, Rachel washing her hands.
‘Hard to tell,’ Rachel said. ‘Godzilla wasn’t giving anything away.’
‘You were late, you weren’t prepped – two strikes.’
‘Three and you’re out?’
‘Not quite, but some rules are best not broken. She’s a stickler, she has to be. And she expects the same from us.’ Janet pulled her hair back, fixing it with a barrette, and made to leave.
‘There’s something else,’ Rachel said quickly, unsure whether to mention it, knowing it was iffy, tenuous.
‘Go on.’ Janet paused at the door.
‘We picked up a rape, back in 2008: Rosie Vaughan. She’d been in Ryelands.’ It was a brutal attack, which made it all the more frustrating that they’d never pinned it on anyone. ‘There could be a connection,’ Rachel said.
‘Because they were both in Ryelands?’ Janet said incredulously, giving a look: You thick or what? Eyebrows high, mouth turning up, half a sneer.
‘They’d both been in Ryelands, but both were living independently when it happened.’
‘Ours is a murder, not a rape,’ Janet argued.
